


I Know Places (We Won't Be Found)

by Draco_sollicitus



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, DamereyDaily, Discussions of slavery, F/M, Jakku, So much angst, Spy!Poe, TROS? Never heard of it, Undercover, hidden identity, spice runners
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22356418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draco_sollicitus/pseuds/Draco_sollicitus
Summary: Rey of Jakku is just trying to survive when a new spice runner comes to Niima.He's handsomer than the last few, that's for sure - but Rey doesn't want to trust this good-looking stranger. She knows what can happen to girls who let their guards down: death, or something worse.But, when Unkar Plutt forces her to help him with an odd search in the desert, Rey gets to know the mysterious spice runner a little more, and when he shows her a depth of kindness and warmth she's never experienced before, Rey starts to develop feelings she'sdefinitelynever had before.She knows his time on Jakku will be short, but there's more to the smuggler than meets the eye. And, the secrets he's hiding just might turn out to be deadly.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Rey
Comments: 97
Kudos: 177





	1. It’s a scene (we’re out here in plain sight)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Damerey Daily prompt: _they are the hunters, we are the foxes, and we run_
> 
>  **warnings**  
>  As you probably could have guessed, this fic deals with Poe's status as a **spice smuggler** and also has references to **prostitution** (both voluntary and involuntary), **slavery** , adult situations, and drug addiction. 
> 
> (Also, in case you couldn't tell from the summary, Poe is undercover, and the nature of that status means that he spends a good amount of this fic lying to Rey about parts of his identity, including his real name, and the fact that he's ... not actually a spice runner/dealer/smuggler)

* * *

There’s a new spice runner in Niima.

There are five thousand, four hundred, and thirty-six tally marks on the inside of her AT-AT, and Rey isn’t sure if it’s a Centaxday or a Benduday, but she knows that somehow she can count to 5436, if only because she feels every one of those tallies, and she knows something is up when she walks away from the booth, clutching three and a half portions to her chest, bones aching from the day’s work.

Rey keeps her head down on the main path as always to avoid trouble, but there’s whispering about the newcomer from some of the older folks in the marketplace. She looks up when Nubba nudges Ploeem and giggles, “Hees ree puffee!”

“Stuka doe ship?” Ploeem grunts back, and Rey squints at them.

“Ya’s do newpa ship?” She asks bluntly, and Nubba - who she’d helped out of a tough bind last year when her work options were running thin and her younglings needed portions - nods begrudgingly before jabbing a wobbly, grey thumb to the south end of the marketplace.

“Thought you’d be asking about the good-looking man, eh, little scavenge-girl?” Nubba teases in her gruff way, and Rey shrugs one shoulder.

Good-looking men aren’t much use in the desert.

 _Ships_ though. 

“Thanks, Nubba.” 

She slips through the stalls, not waiting another moment, and she keeps a hand on her staff as she dodges through large groups of men who leer at her the way they’ve been leering since she first got her courses. Rey refuses to keep her head down here, though, so it won’t be mistaken for fear, and she doesn’t respond to any of the chatter or whistles sent her way.

There’s no mistaking the good-looking man’s ship that Nubba and Ploeem were talking about:

It’s the prettiest thing on this hunk of rock. 

Rey studies it, walking around the back to watch how the twin ion engines jut out so handsomely, gleaming in the afternoon sun, and she notes that unlike a lot of the starhoppers that most smugglers and runners rely on, there’s _pride_ put into this ship. It’s been well-maintained, cleaned frequently, and, oddly enough, there’s no sign of any skirmish or damage to the hull.

“I’m not selling right now.”

Rey startles at the unexpected voice, her heart pounding. No one’s crept up on her in years, but this man with the pleasant tenor _has -_ she spins, holding her staff out, and sees that he’s stopped short of her striking distance by a solid four feet. 

And, yeah, sure, she can see what Nubba was talking about. He’s handsome, as far as humanoids go: curly black hair, tan skin, pleasant features that are also striking, stocky build, if short.

It doesn’t matter what he looks like though; Rey squints her eyes at him, irate.

“What kind of spice dealer isn’t willing to sell?” Rey asks, genuinely curious. 

“The kind who just flew eighteen hours straight to come to kriffing nowhere.” The man shrugs and wipes his hands on a rag.

She notices that his hands are smooth, well-kempt, pretty even - she tucks a hand behind her back, stroking a thumb against her ragged, torn callouses. Rey grits her teeth.

“Well, I don’t want to buy,” she snaps, feeling like it’s important for him to know that.

Her mother sold her for a week’s worth of spice, after all; Rey never wants to be that dependent on anything (or anyone).

“Well, that’s good, because like I said, I don’t want to sell.” Something’s playing at the corner of his mouth - Rey frowns at him before she realizes he’s hiding a smile. Somehow that worsens her suspicion of him by a thousand degrees. 

“Your ship.” Rey jerks her head at it.

“What about it?” The man tilts his head and lets a smirk cross his features. Rey doesn’t bother to hide how her own lip curls in response. “Not looking to sell that, either.”

Rey notes the blaster on his hip. The vibroblade in his boot. No: make that _two_ blades, one in each boot. The throwing stars on the bantha-hide bracelet he’s wearing. His necklace, which disappears beneath his billowing white shirt, no doubt holds a vial of poison.

It’s good that he’s well-armed: Rey would trust him even less if he wasn’t.

“It’s a Baudo-class star yacht,” Rey says instead, and the man stops smirking. He stares at her. “They were built over fifty years ago, but this doesn’t look a day over ten years old.”

“Why, thank you.” He looks mollified and walks towards her. Rey startles back, swinging her staff between them, but he doesn’t even respond to her full-body flinch other than to slightly redirect his path so it swings away from her. “You can look inside, if you want.”

“I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were?” His eyebrow is quirked, and it makes him look more handsome, and Rey can definitely still take him down, even with all his weapons.

She doesn’t relax her stance. “I’m the only woman younger than forty in the Outpost,” Rey says coldly.

This seems to amuse him. “...Congratulations?”

“All the others are dead.” 

He’s not smiling anymore.

“There was another girl, my age. She got on a spice runner’s ship.” Rey swallows, painfully. _My friend,_ she doesn’t say. “There wasn’t anything left to bury.”

“Hey.” The man holds his hands up. “It’s not like that. I’m not - I’m really not here for anything like that.”

“Then why _are_ you here?” Something tells her that something is _very_ much off about this man - although it _isn’t_ sinister. It’s an instinct she can’t ignore, but she ignores it anyway because sometimes instincts get girls killed on Jakku. 

Like Rena.

She was only seventeen years old.

“You won’t sell your spice - you aren’t here to trade skin-” he noticeably flinches at that, and she tucks the information away to use later, like she’s scavenging for parts in one of the destroyers crushed by sand out in the graveyard, “-and you’re driving a ship that’s worth more than all of the ships on this planet combined. So why _are_ you here?”

“I’m here to see Unkar Plutt,” the man says, and any interest Rey had in him vanishes in seconds. “He has something I - where are you going?”

Rey doesn’t look over her shoulder at him as she stalks off across the sand; anyone here to talk to that monster doesn’t deserve another second of her time, not when time is survival and Unkar Plutt is anything but.

* * *

Rey doesn’t get very far.

Maybe a klick outside the Outpost, two speeders zip up to her, and she groans in her throat when she realizes it’s Biley and Redut, two of Unkar’s top cronies.

“Go away,” she says curtly, swinging her staff to remind them of the threat. 

“Boss wants to see you.” Biley spins his speeder in front of her, blocking her path, and Rey grunts and walks the other way.

Redut pulls in front of her. 

Her options are to back up and run - which would be stupid to do in the heat and without a vehicle of her own - or to fight. Without any kind of deliberation, Rey spreads her feet into a fighting stance and grips her staff, thinking to the vibroblade she’d stolen from a scrap pile two months ago, now tucked into her belt.

“I don’t want to see your boss,” Rey says coldly. Her voice sounds odd, even to her own ears - like there’s layers to it. “Leave me alone.”

“We should leave you alone,” Redut repeats, his hands relaxing on the controls.

There’s a beat of confused silence, and then -

Rey blinks when sweat trickles down her forehead, and the strange feeling passes - Biley leans over and smacks his companion. “You’re coming with us,” he says, holding up an electro-prod. Rey eyes it warily, much too familiar with how that feels on bare skin after working for Unkar for so long. “Boss wants to see you,” he repeats.

“He’s not my boss,” Rey says, but her voice is weak.

“He’s everyone’s boss,” Redut mutters. “Come on, scavenger, don’t make this harder than it has to be. He’s gotta job for you.”

“Will the job pay?”

The electro-prod crackles, and Rey swallows her angered, next point to climb on the back of Redut’s speederbike.

At least the ride back into the Outpost is quick.

When they lead her up to Unkar’s stall, Rey doesn’t let go of her staff; her bag whacks against her leg with every step, and as furious as she is to be dragged in to see Plutt like she’s thirteen years old again and delinquent on her work, Rey’s also relieved they didn’t steal her portions. Her stomach is pinched from no food for two days, and her throat parched - if she’s here, she might be able to negotiate fresh water from Unkar for whatever he needs her to fix or tool with.

Rey’s feet stop short when she sees who’s talking to Unkar behind the stall. 

“Ahhh, my best scavenger!” Unkar booms out, hands spread wide. “There’s someone here who needs your help, my girl.”

“I’m not your girl,” Rey spits, glaring up at the blobbish, monstrous man who’d defined her childhood. Her cheeks heat up as she studiously avoids looking at the handsome spice runner. “And I don’t want to help _him._ ”

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Unkar assures the newcomer, and he walks around the booth to clap a hand on her back.

Rey tenses even before he touches her - it’ll surely bruise, and the contact reverberates through her body enough to make her teeth clack together. She’s slight enough that her whole body flinches forward, and the man sees.

She sees him frown, concern flashing across his face.

_Why the kriff does he care what happens to me?_

“She doesn’t _have_ to help me, Mr. Plutt.”

Mr. Plutt. _What a joke._

Unkar eats it up, of course. “No, no, no, Mr. Arahs.” Unkar’s hand is still on her back, and Rey wonders how many times she’ll have to hack at his wrist with her vibroblade to cut it off. “Rey is the _best_ scavenger on this side of the planet; it helps that she can get into tight spaces.” His hand wraps around her thin upper arm - his fingers overlap with absolutely zero issue - as he laughs enough to make his chins wobble, and Rey swallows back her mortification and rage and desire to force-feed Unkar her staff.

“Stronger than the children, too, if you’re going out to the Western ruins, out near that Hand-”

“The Western ruins?” Rey repeats, disbelieving. “You can’t-” She stares at the man. “Why the kriff does a spice dealer want to go _there_ \- and -” She glares up at Unkar, “- you can’t send the children there, the - the steelvultures could carry them off-”

“Steelvultures?” The spice runner repeats.

“Sounds like we agree.” Unkar smiles down at her, oily and cruel as he releases her arm. Blood rushes to her fingertips, and Rey’s glad for the wrappings on her arm because they’ll hide the bruise and therefore her vulnerability. “You and Mr. Arahs will leave from here at first light.”

“I’ll have to leave two hours before sunrise,” Rey grits out between her teeth, but Unkar waves a hand at her as he waddles behind his stall again.

“Thirty-six portions,” Unkar promises with an evil grin, shaking a box of veg-protein at her. 

Rey’s stomach chooses that moment to rumble. Horribly. Audibly. 

Unkar hears it. The spice runner - Arahs - hears it. Rey’s face burns like she’s been standing in the sun without protection for four hours.

“Deal,” she says faintly. “Twelve portions now. The rest tomorrow.”

“If you don’t show up on time, you’ll be paying me back double interest,” Unkar warns, slapping the portions on the stall. Rey’s mouth waters at the sight of them so badly, she sways on the spot and almost forgets to answer.

“Yeah.” She slides the portions towards her and gently places them in her bag, careful, counting everyone. “I understand.”

To the spice runner, she tilts her chin in brief acknowledgement. “First light tomorrow. Wear better clothes than that.” Rey gestures to his tight, green leather pants and silly, sheer white shirt. 

And then she’s heading back towards home, already irritated that she’s going to be walking in the dark now.

Two minutes later, there’s the sound of feet sliding through sand; Rey half-turns and sees Arahs running towards her, badly. 

“Not from the desert, are you?” She asks coolly, gripping her staff with one hand, and pressing the other to her bag protectively.

“What? No, I’m from the jung-” Arahs cuts himself off, looking confused, a bit like a baby happabore, and Rey almost wants to smile. _Not a very slick spice runner, then._ “What - I don’t know what Plutt’s paying you, but I don’t think it’s enough-”

“Thirty-six portions?” Rey raises her eyebrows and pulls out one packet from her bag, holding it tenderly in her hands like the treasure it is. “I haven’t had that much food in -- well, ever.” She tucks it back, carefully. “I’ll be able to eat for weeks. Months, if I’m careful.”

“That’s _food_ ?” His voice breaks incredulously, and Rey scowls at him. “No, wait - Rey, right?” She nods warily. “Rey, if you’re the one helping me, I should be paying _you._ The credits I promised Unkar for helping me find this thing, it’s - well it’s a lot of credits.” She doesn’t say anything. “Like, feed yourself for _years_ kinda credits.”

“No one on this planet takes credits.” Rey resists the urge to roll her eyes. “And Unkar’s the only one with the portions.”

Arahs seems furious at that, and it’s all very confusing - spice runners _thrive_ in these kinds of places. Rey isn’t so naive that she doesn’t understand that.

“I’ll see you at first light.” Rey shakes her head, unwilling to waste another moment of daylight on her walk back. “Don’t be late. Find better clothes.” 

And she starts walking, determined not to turn around again for any reason at all.

* * *

Arahs watches the strange, beautiful scavenger girl walk away until her figure is only a suggestion on the horizon.

Then, he turns and walks through the dinky little outpost, walking boldy, hips swaying slightly, his ass drawing much more attention than his face (harder to remember an ass than a face, at least), heading back towards the Pulsar Skate.

Rey had seemed interested in the ship when they’d met earlier that day - maybe she’d be interested in a tour, if he promised to stay off the ship while she was on it --

_And then she’d steal the ship. Idiot._

Arahs nods at a few of the lower ranking members of the gang affiliate that seem to dominate this little planet, and then keys in the access code for the Pulsar Skate, walks on the ramp, and initiates take-off. He flies to a more removed part of Jakku, miles and miles away from any civilization or living thing, and sets up the shields for the night.

Arahs takes a deep breath in, lets it out, and then dials into his comms.

A small, stately woman appears, flickering blue over the holo.

“Captain Dameron,” General Organa greets him calmly. “How goes the intel mission?”

Poe leans back in his chair and shakes his head. “They don’t know anything about the hidden lab - the only landmark out that way, according to the locals, is something called the Western Ruins, and a Hand. All very ... unpromising.”

“And any sign of Syndicate activity in town?” Leia asks, brow arching. “Any rivals for your spice market?"

He snorts and stretches slightly, feeling his wrist joints pop. “No, ma’am.”

“Keep an eye on things. Jakku’s a little too … nondescript to be completely boring.” Leia frowns and shakes her head. “I’ve got a feeling about it.”

“I’m glad,” Poe says dryly. “Someone should have some kind of feeling about it. Other than _sand_ _is the worst,_ and _wow, it’s so hot._ ”

“I’m not paying you to complain, Captain.”

“No offense, ma’am, but you’re not paying me at all.”

“Fair point.” Leia’s mouth twitches undeniably, and Poe counts it as a victory. “Keep me updated, Captain.”

“Will do. Going out with a local guide tomorrow.”

“Do you trust him?”

“ _She_ ,” Poe places a bit of emphasis on the word, and Leia rolls her eyes, “weighs maybe a hundred pounds and looks and sounds like a Coruscant fashion model under a thousand layers of grime. I think she might disembowel me if I piss her off.”

“She sounds wonderful. Bring her home for introductions before the honeymoon.”

Poe snorts and kicks his feet up on the dashboard. “Wilco.”

“I need to go put out a fire across base. Your squadron is awfully energized in your absence.”

“You should make ‘em run laps. Say they’re from me.”

“I’ll think about it.” Leia’s definitely smiling now. “And goodnight, Captain.”

“Goodnight, General.”

The comms blink out, and Captain Poe Dameron, formerly of the NRDF, now of the Resistance, gazes up through the starviewer and breathes in and out slowly, trying to remember all the details of his cover for tomorrow.

Arahs is meant to be slightly slimy, charming, forceful, manipulative, clever - connected to the Hutts, to the spice runners of Kijimi, and mysterious. Arahs is from Kesh, and while the name has changed to protect the integrity of his missions here and there, Poe’s studied the actual character and successfully acted it on over a dozen missions between the NRDF and now the Resistance.

And a pretty girl with sand coated on her skin and motor oil fused to her hair asked him where he was from this afternoon, and he gave her an honest answer with zero effort on her part.

Poe shakes his head and tries not to let his thoughts wander to Rey, the scavenger and his guide for tomorrow (and the foreseeable future, until he finds what Leia sent him out here to find), even if he can’t shake the image of her eyes - the only spot of green on this godsforsaken planet.

He needs to get some rest; Poe closes his eyes and thinks about Arahs, and secret labs, and Syndicate connections, and eventually falls into a dreamless sleep.


	2. just grab my hand (don't ever drop it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO sorry for the huge break in this - silly me had half of this written for weeks, and this afternoon I made myself sit down and finish it so I could put it up (people on tumblr said they were missing it).
> 
> but before I apologize myself into a corner, for now, enjoy this bantering, snippy dynamic between a reluctant scavenger and an undercover spice runner.

Of course, Arahs is late.

Rey stands at the bottom of the Baudo-class star yacht, gritting her teeth together. The sun’s already above the horizon, and her palms are itching with the sand and sweat that gritted its way onto her on the hour and a half walk to this location. 

Eventually, she gives up any semblance of patience and rams her staff into the bottom of the shiny chrome exterior of the yacht.

_Clang. Clang clang clang. Thwack._

Her last swipe is the most vicious, but it also gets a response.

The ramp lowers, and she sees Arahs’ handsome face glaring out. “D’you plan on buffing that out later?”

Rey glares back at him. “Do _you_ plan on coming out any time soon?”

“I’m getting ready.” He sniffs and points at the single boot he has on. “You told me I had to wear something different. Took a minute to find these.”

“Yeah, well. Hurry up.” Rey rolls her eyes and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Something tells me pretty drug dealers don’t like standing out in the desert at high noon.”

His mouth twitches into a slow, slightly lecherous smile. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Pretty _annoying_ ,” Rey snaps, blushing at how easily he gets under her skin. “I’m starting the speeders. Be there in five, or I’ll tell Unkar I don’t care about the portions.” Without waiting for a response, she pivots and walks back towards the main part of the Outpost.

“Hey, hey - wait up!” 

She rolls her eyes again - it’s becoming a habit with him - and keeps walking, shoving her staff up higher on her shoulder as she drags her feet through the sand to keep balanced.

“Wait, hold up, I’m sorry, I-”

“It might not matter to _you_ ,” Rey says coldly when he reaches her shoulder, and she’s slightly pleased at how he slips around in the sand like a newborn happabore, “but I have other work I have to do today, and the longer I wait around on you, the less I can do it.”

“Kriff, I - I’m sorry.”

Rey squints at him, confused. She hadn’t intended to get an apology after that - she thinks she’s been apologized to maybe three times in her entire life, and the other two times were mostly mean. But Arahs sounds like he meant it.

“I’ll be on time tomorrow,” he continues, and Rey stops for a second.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow.” he stops too and swings around to face her. “We probably won’t find what we need today.”

“...does Unkar know that?”

“I mean - maybe? Hey, wait!” 

He has to call after her because she’s already storming off towards Unkar’s stall, her vision tinged with red, her teeth set together.

“Unkar!” She smacks her staff against the stall. “Open up, you great, awful b-”

“Awful what now?” Unkar rolls up the partition slightly to smirk at her. 

“Did you know this was more than a one-day gig?” Rey seethes. “I still have my normal quota to meet-”

“And I’m sure a scavenger like yourself will have no problem meeting that quota,” Unkar says, slick as an oil spill, and her teeth grit further together.

As they’re talking, Arahs comes up behind her, slightly out of breath from the hot air and the difficult terrain. 

“You want me to help this - this - _koochoo_ for - for how long exactly?” Rey asks, whirling on Arahs, who looks far more alarmed than a dangerous spice runner shoulder. She frowns at him as he looks between her and Unkar.

“Uh, as long as it takes to find what I’m looking for?” He hazards, and Rey wants to scream between her teeth.

“Will I get the portions for every day I help him?” Rey demands, and Unkar chortles.

“Oh, no, little girl, you’ll be owing me the usual quota, and thirty-six is the deal we struck. Mr. Arahs was there, he can recall.”

It’s the wink Unkar throws Arahs that seals the deal.

“Fine.” She shakes her head, holding back tears of fury. “Fine, I - I ate one of the portions already, but take it out of the next few hauls. I’ll bring the eleven others back at the end of the day.”

She turns to walk away, ignoring Unkar’s roar of irritation, when Arahs speaks up.

“I need the guide.”

“And you'll get the guide.” Unkar kicks the door to his stall open and walks around out front. Rey grips her staff, more than ready to fight both of them if she has to. “Because, if she doesn’t sell to me, who is she going to sell to, hm?” He grabs her arm again, and Rey tries to wrench it away, hiding the yell of pain it would otherwise rip out of her as she tussles with his huge, meaty hand.

“How quickly they forget, Mr. Arahs, the invaluable gifts we give them-”

“Don’t touch her.” 

Rey and Unkar both freeze, and Unkar laughs nervously before he lets go of her. “Now, now, Mr. Arahs, that isn’t-”

Rey turns and blinks in shock. He’s pulled a blaster.

And not a shoddy, cruddy one you can slap together after finding parts out in the desert, decaying in the sun and half-buried by sand. No. A shiny one. Fancy. Deadly.

“I want her. As a guide. And I don’t want you kriffing with my guide.” Arahs doesn’t drop the blaster. “Now, you can release her from your verbal contract, and I can pay her _myself_ -” he ignores Unkar’s sudden spluttering, “-or, we can both let her decide her _own_ terms, and I’m fine financing whatever she decides.”

He remembers then, Rey realizes, that credits are virtually useless on a planet where nothing costs anything except your endless, hard labor.

Unkar takes a step away from her, but it isn’t until he says, “The _girl_ can decide,” that Arahs lowers the blaster.

Then, he looks at her, and his eyes - a pretty shade of brown, which isn’t helpful to note - seem, for the first time, dangerous.

Rey clears her throat, wishing for some water. “I’ll take the portions. Ten a day until it’s done.”

“And will that increase my financial promise to you, Mr. Unkar?” Arahs asks pleasantly. The blaster is still in his hand. “Remember, I have contacts here. They can tell me the actual cost of _portions_ per the credits I’m paying you. And I don’t like to be lied to.”

“No.” Unkar says the word reluctantly, and his chins wobble with indignation as he toddles back to his place at the stall. “That will be fine. _Mister_ Arahs.”

“Great. Let’s head out.” He holsters his blaster, and then eyes the speeders in the distance. “I have faster transpo on my own ship, but thank you for the offer.” And then he sweeps off across the sand, Rey at his heels for once.

“Arahs! Are you insane?” She hisses when they’re far away enough from Unkar. “You can’t treat him like that, he’s the boss here-”

“And, no offense to “here,”” -- and _gods_ it’s so annoying, he does little air-quotes around the word -- “but ‘here’ is such a small, podunk little place, that Unkar Plutt is hardly a chief concern of mine.” Arahs surprises her by holding out a hand. “The full name is _Sek_ Arahs, by the way. Arahs is my mother.” He seems amused by whatever he’s said, but Rey doesn’t get it. 

Regardless, she shakes his hand. “Rey.”

“Rey what?” He asks pleasantly enough as they head back towards the yacht. They’ve wasted another ten minutes with her outburst, and she’s too busy chewing on the apology that she feels only slightly obligated to make, for her to really snap at the question. 

“Just Rey.” She shrugs when he gives her an amused look. “Not trying to be mysterious. Don’t have a last name.”

“What were your parents’ names?’

“Not sure.” Rey refuses to talk more after that, as she’s forcibly reminded of Sek’s occupation and how it’s personally ruined her life. 

He catches onto her shift in tone, and doesn’t push; luckily, they’re back at the yacht, and he glances at the ramp before smirking at her. “I guess I’ll lower the speeders myself, unless you want to come in?”

“Not on your life,” Rey says, sitting firmly in the shade of the yacht. He fake-salutes her, and she holds back another eyeroll as he sways up the ramp, swishing his hips like he _wants_ her to look at his ass.

Well, to be fair, it worked.

Rey blushes again and stabs her fingers in the cooled sand, her mind wandering slightly now that he’s gone: why _did_ this spice runner - dangerous, well-armed, wealthy - nearly shoot Unkar over her ire at being taken advantage of? It wasn’t unusual for deals to go feet-up on Jakku, and while Rey had been furious, livid even, she would have lived.

Now, Unkar will probably hate her even more after Sek is gone, but she’ll have to worry about that later.

There’s a faint hissing sound, of clean pneumatics shifting, and Rey’s jaw drops as she staggers to her feet.

Before she can stop herself, Rey stumbles forward, eyes wide as she takes on the stunning, top-of-the-line luxury speeders - she’s only seen bits and pieces of models like these at a time during her better scavenging hauls - that are being lowered from the bottom of Sek’s ship. 

“Wow,” she breathes, eyes wide. If she thought the star-yacht was pretty, these speeders are gorgeous. There’s room on the sides for plenty of haul, and she swears she can see her face in the front hull of each. Then, she notices something, right around the time that Sek wanders back down the ramp.

She bends over to examine it, flitting her fingers under the rim of one to make sure, and then snorts. “You stole these.”

“Did not.” Strangely, he sounds indignant.

“Did too,” Rey shoots back, straightening up with a smirk. She gestures at the fender. “The inscription’s been buffed off, but I’d know those mods to the engine anywhere - that’s New Republic tech.”

Sek’s eyes shift to the side and Rey ducks back down, looking at the engines. She’s grinning now, realizing something about the ion engine: “Not only that - You stole _NRDF_ tech.”

“Stole is a very difficult word-”

“And you’re a difficult man,” Rey drawls, feeling playful as she grins up at him. Strangely, Sek only snorts and offers her a hand; she takes it, frowning at how readily he initiates physical contact, and lets him help her stand up again. 

There’s a painful moment that should feel awkward but feels like something else when their eyes meet, and their hands haven’t seperated yet.

“I’ve been told that a few times,” is all he says before stepping to the side and priming the speeder engines. 

“Aren’t you going to-” Rey gestures at the still-open ramp, and Sek clicks a button on something on his wrist; Rey watches, wide-eyed, as the ramp lifts on his own.

“How does that work?” She asks eagerly.

Sek gives her a pleased grin. “I’ll tell ya all about it while we’re digging. Now, come on. Western Ruins, start near that Hand thing.”

“I don’t even want to know why you want to go out there.” Rey shakes her head, disgruntled, but her irritation fades as she slides smoothly into the speeder seat. “Ooooh, that’s nice.” She revs the engine twice. “That’s very nice.”

“You gonna talk nicer to the speeder than me the whole time?”

“You bet.” Rey pulls her goggles down and wraps her scarf around her face; then she guns the engine whooping with excitement as she shoots forward, out in the desert. 

Cutting a wide arc and heading west, she senses Sek approaching from the left, behind her still. She signals to go west with one hand, and they race off across the sand together. 

At one point, zipping up a dune, Rey howls with laughter again. She can’t help it - she’s never gone this fast in her life, and it feels _right,_ like something in her is coursing with power, and she’s handing herself over to fate, fate and the speed of light, where everything blurs together and yet becomes more clear than ever.

Sek laughs too, and she glances over at him and sees him grinning at her, his goggles doing nothing to hide his handsome features; Rey grins at their shared excitement and then notes a clump of prickle-tree that she takes as a landmark, cutting to the left and surprising Sek.

It’s a long ride, even on the speeders, and the sun is much higher in the sky when they finally pull up a klick from the Hand.

“What is it we’re looking for?” Rey asks after they dismount and hide the speeders under some dry-fang bush. 

“Anything that shouldn’t be here. A door, a piece of tech.”

“What kind of tech?” Rey asks, already sweeping her staff through the sand at their feet. “And aren’t you worried that whatever’s out here is already buried?”

“Yeah.” Sek nods, a grim smile on his plush lips. Rey takes her eyes away from his mouth immediately. She has never, in her life, considered anyone’s body part to be _plush._

She once had a pillow stuffed with sawgrass from out on the oasis. _That_ was plush.

“That’s why I wanted to go through the caverns.”

“The caverns?” Rey shakes her head with a snort. “All you’ll find there are skeletons of people like me who went searching for things that weren’t there.”

“Afraid of going in there?” He asks, and Rey tosses her head back to glare at him.

“No. No, but if you _aren’t_ going to be rude about it, I do get a weird feeling from the caverns.”

That gets his attention. “Weird feeling how?”

Rey purses her lips and keeps walking forward, her eyes on the sand again. “Like...cold. And dark. Something wrong is in there.”

“Then I want to be there.” Sek sets off in a direction, and Rey puts a hand on her hip, resting her staff in the sand.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“To the caverns!” Sek shouts back, gesticulating in the distance.

Rey closes her eyes and lets out a tense breath. “You’re going completely the wrong direction.” She jabs her finger west. “The caverns are that way, under the hand.”

Sek stops, pivots, and then marches back the way he came, heading in the direction she’s pointing. Rey snorts when he passes her, and then follows in his footsteps.

“Really? I tell you there’s a place in the desert not even the most desperate scavengers want to go to, and you run towards it?” She asks irately. “Do you have any self-preservation?”

“Nope!” his voice is way too cheerful for how hot it is. Rey envisions stealing the flask off his hip and drinking whatever’s in there. “Not really in my job description.”

“I would have thought spice runners needed self-preservation,” she notes casually, not meaning anything by the title, but his shoulders stiffen all the same. 

“Yeah, well, whatever it is that I’m guessing is hidden in those caverns, I got people willing to pay a lot for it.” He shoots a look over his shoulder at her, and she can’t tell what it is with the sun in his face. “And there are people who will suffer if I don’t find it.”

“Cryptic,” Rey mutters, still stomping after him.

“Hey, how did a girl from Coruscant end up all the way out here?” Sek asks a few moments later, genuine curiosity in his voice.

Unsure if he means to throw her off or distract her so he can finally reveal his true, awful colors, Rey adjusts her grip on her staff. “What?”

“Coruscant,” Sek repeats, “What’s a girl from Coruscant doing on _Jakku_?”

“I’m not from Coruscant,” Rey says, confused by his point.

“Sure you are,” Sek gives her a small frown as she catches up to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with him. “And a nice level too, judging by the accent.”

Rey frowns. She’s never met anyone from Coruscant, and only knows about it from the stories about the Jedi, so she can’t tell if he’s lying or not.

“I’m from Jakku.” there’s an odd, uncomfortable feeling at the base of her spine. Something - _wrong_ lingering in her own words, like she’s telling a lie to herself.

(And that’s another _odd_ thing about Sek - Rey has a habit of catching lies, can tell when people use their words to be false. Sek lies like everyone else does - but he’s honest when he shouldn’t be, and his lies feel more like half-truth)

“Sure you are,” Sek agrees, “but before that, I wouldn’t be surprised if mom or dad knew a Senator-”

“Don’t,” Rey snaps, “talk about my parents.”

“Alright, alright.” Sek shakes his head. “It isn’t unusual either way, they’re both Core, and-”

“We should conserve our energy,” Rey breaks in abruptly. “It’s only going to get hotter, and the caverns go on for a while.”

“Got it.” He nods, and she walks in peace for another few minutes. 

The sand out here is too unstable for speeders or she would have suggested it, to get this done faster. Squinting against the bright light on the sand, Rey tugs on Sek’s sleeve after ten minutes of walking and points. 

“There’s an entrance.”

“Are you sure? That doesn’t look too-”

“Sorry that our infrastructure isn’t up to code.” Rey walks over the wide opening where the sand feels more packed down. “Sand-worms make these holes. The caverns were probably made by the worms too, but they’ve been preserved by something over the years, so when we’re down there, it’ll feel more stable.”

“Sand-worms. Any chance these are friendly, sweet sand-worms-”

“They’ve been known to eat scavengers.” Rey shrugs and then gestures to the hole. “You first, Mr. Arahs.”

“Why thank you, Lady Rey,” he bows irritatingly, and Rey fights the urge to shove him underground. 

She slips in after him, and to her surprise, he holds his arms out to catch her as she falls to the soft ground underneath the shifting sands; he steadies her quickly, her back to his broad, deceptively powerful chest.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says mildly, more surprised than angry at his arms around her. He lets go of her immediately, and Rey reaches into her pouch for her torch. 

It flickers on, and Sek pulls out a nicer, similar device which lights up the path a lot more. Rey tilts her head southwest, listening for any worms or anything else alive.

“Follow me,” she says softly, walking forward towards the larger tunnel network.

“I don’t think I have another choice,” he gripes, but it only makes her smile, his strange, constant snark. 

* * *

Poe realizes fully that this girl could just murder him, ransack his pouch (discover his Resistance tech and identification), and leave him under here. 

His claustrophobia plays into that realization slightly, but to be fair, Rey’s walking with her back to him - if anything, she should be terrified of _him,_ a drug dealer she knows nothing about, who demanded they take a day trip to a deadly place on a deadly planet. 

“How many people know about this place?” he asks her quietly. The air is cooler down here, so she might not have the same qualms about conserving energy.

“Most scavengers. But, not all of them realize that because one entrance goes away, it doesn’t mean you can’t get back down here.”

“The entrance … goes away?” Fear prickles down his spine, and he checks over his shoulder to see where they came - he can still see a shaft of light from above.

Rey doesn’t seem to share his fear; she navigates a furrow in the ground and gestures at him to jump over it, holding her hand out to help him. 

Another surprising thing: that a girl who was raised in this hellhole could still be kind. Because for all her gruffness, Rey has been … shockingly kind to him. Coarse, maybe. Irate, definitely. But kind all the same.

Poe takes her hand gratefully as he swings over the odd divot in the ground. They keep walking, more side-by-side now that the tunnel has broadened. 

“The worms,” she says at last, when they’ve rounded a corner and the tunnel slopes downward. Poe swallows, his fear ratcheting up to a thousand klicks a second. “They move when they’re looking for food, and the entrance tunnels collapse.”

“What do we do if we run into a sand-worm?” Poe asks, hoping he’s masked his fear to sound less “farmboy from Yavin” and more “hardened spice runner.”

Rey’s smile is mischievous this time; he thinks he likes it on her. That is, until she smirks at him and says, “you should pray that you can run faster than me.”

And she walks in front of him then, her buns flouncing haughtily as she marches downward. Poe lands somewhere between amused, aroused, and terrified, and lifts his torch higher, descending into the darkness after the girl who offers as much mystery as the place that formed her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MEEEEP 
> 
> IF you're still with me, know that I"m SUPER sorry for how late this is, and there will eventually be so much smut-angst-misunderstandings that my heart might actually explode.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank you if you're still reading -- this is on my list of "must finish" in case I officially disappear from this fandom, and you all were so kind about it for the first chapter, and I"M SO SORRY and I really hope you still care about it!!  
> Please, please let me know if you do and sorry again!

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


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